The Paternal Reflection
by NinjaNovelist
Summary: Sheldon had always had a... complicated relationship with his father.


**Warning: this fic will send you on quite the roller coaster, from fluffy to angsty to ****_really _****angsty to something in-between. Inspired by the line Sheldon said in the latest episode that made me wanna reach into the TV and hug that little nerd to death, even if he would've gone for the hand sanitizer straight after. So thank you for that, Mr. Parsons.**

**This deals with a relationship only lightly explored in the show, because I firmly believe that for all their problems this man truly loved Shelly, and vice versa, with a smattering of Shamy on the side. Enjoy!**

**(THNOA will be updated in due time)**

**Disclaimer: Why yes, I do own The Big Bang- *piano gets dropped on me*. Winning.**

His very first memory was of his father.

Most children can't remember a thing beyond three or four years of age, but Sheldon Lee Cooper had always been one to deviate from the norm. Which was why to this day Sheldon could recall, from the tender age of one, a vivid image of George Cooper Sr. smiling gently down on his son as he was rocked to sleep.

"Stubborn little tyke, aren't ya," his daddy murmured as he swayed leisurely from side to side. "Can't ya be a good boy and go to sleep like your sister?"

Sucking his thumb, Sheldon cast a sidelong glance towards Missy as she lay blissfully passed out in her crib. A tempting offer, but Daddy's shoulder was so comfy. Sheldon burrowed his head deeper still as he looked up in what he hoped was that special way that always made people happy and forget any displeasure they had with him.

Sure enough, his father chuckled in response. "Worth a shot." George bounced his son lightly as he went to the other crib and carefully put him down. He lightly twirled the mobile above his head, and Sheldon diverted his attention from his father to the planets he already knew the names of, rotating just out of his reach. Fascinating.

"G'night, Shelly," his father said softly, reaching with one large, well-worn hand to brush it over his head. Then he turned to join his mother as she watched quietly from the doorframe, dropping a kiss to her head as he wrapped an arm around her and led her down the hall and out of sight.

Sheldon smiled drowsily as he turned back to gaze at the mobile, allowing the allure and wonder of the universe beyond to at last lull him to sleep.

_x_

Sheldon threw his flashcards down on the kitchen table in disgust. "I can't do this!"

"Well if Shellybean the boy genius can't do it, it must be impossible," his father answered gruffly as he prepared their lunch. Grabbing a plate in each hand, he made his way over to plop a turkey sandwich in front of his son. "Either that or it's somethin' to do with sports."

Sheldon scowled with all the menace yet weariness a six-year-old could manage. "I'm trying to memorize this list of polyatomic ions, but I just can't get it down."

George sighed heavily as he sank into the chair across from him. He'd had a long morning at work and he really wasn't in the mood to spend his lunch break dealing with his rather… _unusual_ son. "Can't ya use your fancy-shmancy idootic memory or whatever to help ya out?" He punctuated this statement with a tap to Sheldon's noggin.

"_Eidetic _memory, Daddy," the boy replied, batting the hand away with all the patience of his sister waiting in line for the newest flavor of lipgloss. "And it is only effective when I can organize the information in a configuration that's both orderly and sensible in my head, but there's hardly any rhyme or reason to this!" Sheldon slumped down in his seat and crossed his arms. "Or maybe I'm just stupid."

Glancing across from over his afternoon beer, George sighed again but this time in sympathy. Abandoning his own lunch for the moment and switching chairs so he was next to his Shelly, he began silently picking up the cards that cluttered the table one by one.

The older Texan leaned as far back in his chair as the laws of gravity would permit and cleared his throat loudly. "Hydroxide."

"OH-," Sheldon answered sullenly.

With a nod, George then flipped to the next one. "Um, dichromate?"

Shelly's face screwed up in that special way when he was thinking especially hard, something he's done since he was a baby. "Cr2… O4^2-?"

George shook his head, and Sheldon threw his hands up in exasperation. "You see? I'll never get it!"

"Boy, I don't have a lick of a clue what dichromate even_ is_. You'll get it." George scratched his head as he tried to come up with a way to encourage his boy. "Studyin', see, it- it's like football." He ignored the roll of Sheldon's as he barreled forward. "Ya just hafta try and get into the head of the other team, figure out their plays. And when they least expect it, ya blitz."

Sheldon's brows furrowed as he ruminated on that thought, and George took that as permission to continue. "Now, try it again. Dichromate."

Shelly chewed his lip as fervently as George wished he could be chewing on his ham and cheese sandwich right then. "Um, Cr2… O7^2-?"

George only smiled and nodded, and Sheldon grinned back in response.

"There ya go, son. Jus' like football." He ruffled his boy's hair and turned to the next card. "Okay, how 'bout hydrogen phosphate…"

_Ya have to take your time with Sheldon._

_x_

It was like laying eyes on a car wreck; you can't bear to look but at the same time can't bear to look away. Such was the case for Sheldon and Missy as they sat huddled in his bed, listening to their parents scream at one another from downstairs.

"If you could get your head out of your bottle for just one minute, you'd see just what you're putting your family through by behaving this way."

"Well you've certainly got to get your head outta somethin', but lemme tell you, it's not a bottle!"

Missy whimpered as she dug her nails into his shirt. "Why they gotta fight like this, Shelly?"

Though in most cases Sheldon was completely averse to physical contact, he couldn't help but pull his twin just a bit closer. For once in his life, he didn't have an answer.

"If you hate me as much as you say you do, then why not just go? Take the kids, walk right out this door, finally leave me in peace. What's stoppin' you?"

Their mother was fully sobbing now, but her words still had a fierce bite. "You'd better watch that mouth, George Cooper, before I do just that."

Unable to take it any longer Sheldon leapt from the bed, tugging his sister along behind him. The two ran hand-in-hand down the hall, their parents' yells and insults chasing after them as they both skidded to a halt in front of the last door down the line and began pounding on the wood.

Though it was far past their bedtime, they didn't worry about the noise. Mom and Dad didn't seem to be paying them no mind, anyhow.

At their persistence George Jr. soon appeared before them in all his twelve-year-old glory. He took one look between his siblings and without a word pulled them both inside, the door slamming sharply behind them.

Sheldon and Missy climbed in on either side of Junior, the three snuggling closely in his single bed. It wasn't nearly big enough for them all, but none of them could bear the thought of sleeping alone tonight, so they made due.

"How 'bout I tell yous a story?" Georgie said, an arm around each sibling. Both twins nodded vigorously, and the older boy launched into a tale that despite his eidetic memory Sheldon could not for the life of him remember. All that mattered was that his brother had spoken just loud enough to drown out his parents' never-ending shouting match.

It was the telltale creak of the door slowly widening that roused Sheldon from his slumber some time later. He continued to feign sleep, but cracked an eye open just enough to recognize the looming shadow of his father as he slightly stumbled forward in the dark, stopping just before the bed. Sheldon wasn't sure just how long George Cooper Sr. stood there, gazing upon his children sprawled across one another; he had nearly fallen back asleep when the man at last spoke.

"I'm sorry, kids." Then he turned tail and left the room without another word.

It wasn't until the next day, thinking back on it, that Sheldon realized it was the first time in years he had seen his father without a bottle on hand.

_x_

"How could you do this to us, your own family?!"

His father had stayed remarkably quiet all through his tirade, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes downcast as he leaned against the counter, but at that last line he finally lifted his gaze and spoke in a low, embittered tone. "Same reason you would abandon your family for your high 'n mighty university at eleven years old."

"At least I didn't abandon them for some old washed up beers and blondes," Sheldon shot back, thankful that his mother and Missy were at church, and Junior was.. well who the hell knew these days? "These past three years I've let myself be deluded, gave you the benefit of the doubt, but there's no denying it now. I saw it with my own eyes. Guess all those action figures your little bimbo's gotten me was just a pathetic ploy to gain my support in tearing my parents' marriage apart!"

"Well it takes two to end a marriage, son…"

Sheldon was on him at the speed of light, getting right into the old man's face with gritted teeth and a bravery he really didn't feel on the inside. "Don't. You. Dare." Whether he was threatening the blow at his mother or the man's audacity to call him son, like everything between them was as it'd always been, he wasn't sure.

George stared right back at his son with a fire in his eyes they both shared. "This whole house has gone to shit, boy. Your sister's off suckin' face with every trash heap of a boy who looks her way, your brother's off gettin' himself arrested every other week, and all the while you and your mama hide yourselves away with your damned textbooks and scriptures, hopin' ta use your smarts or your prayers to wish your problems away but actually ignorin' those of us who're sufferin'! Can ya blame me for needing out?"

"Oh, I can and I _will_," Sheldon seethed, his Texan bleeding through his voice despite his efforts to lose it at school. "We've gone to shit, alright, but only because _you've_ made us this way. You need out, then go ahead, no one's stopping you, I'll even show you to the door. This family'd be better off without you anyways!"

And with that he stormed out of the room and up the stairs, willing his perfect memory to wipe the unmistakably hurt look on his father's face as he reached his room and slammed the door behind him. He waited against the wood of his door to listen for the sound of his father leaving the house, undoubtedly to head to the bar to talk it out with his little lady friend, and eventually it did indeed come. Then, protected within the walls of the one safe haven he had in his home, Sheldon fell onto his bed and let the tears come.

Dad never let him cry; he said it wasn't fit for a man to show weakness. But it was him who was the weak one, giving up on his wife and family while giving in to his carnal urges. _He _was weak. Him, him, all him, only him…

And yet, how many times had his mother told him how like his father he was? His height, his bluntness, his pride, his temper. His lust… that he wasn't sure.

That was when he decided that he would never, ever give in and subject himself to his urges like his father did. He would never, ever fall in love like his parents did, before it inevitably fell to bits and pieces. He would never, ever father a child in fear of growing up into what he hated most of all at this moment.

The sun was just beginning to dip down to meet the horizon when Sheldon felt rather than heard a sudden, frantic rapping on his bedroom door, so booming it vibrated throughout his whole room. Grumbling irritably to himself, he swung his legs over and rose to answer, to find his twin behind it with tears streaming her face.

Sheldon understood little between Missy's weeping: _Daddy _and _heart attack _and _hospital _and _critical_. But it was far more than enough.

Sheldon took his sister by the arm and guided her down the stairs, where his mother's voice was trembling as much as her hand gripping the phone as she spoke with Meemaw, while moving as far as the cord would allow to gather her things.

Just then Junior burst into the room, looking like he'd just walked through a hurricane just to get home. "What the hell happened? Rumors been spreadin' like the plague through town. Is Dad… is he really…"

His only confirmation was a racking sob from Missy. Always the surrogate father, Georgie strode across the room to take his sister off of Sheldon's hands and into his arms.

"Shh, shh, it'll be fine," Junior whispered as he stroked the girl's hair.

"These doctors will do whatever it takes, Mama," Mary said as she wrestled with her purse a little too forcefully than what was necessary. "He'll be fine. He will."

"Oh Missy, please don't cry. Daddy's tough, he'll pull through. In no time he'll be fine as ever…"

"All we can do now is trust in the Lord. He will provide just fine, as He always does."

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

But Sheldon knew better.

Staggering backwards like he'd taken a bullet to the heart, Sheldon whipped around and bolted out of the house, ignoring his mother's calls and his sister's sobs, letting the screen door smack shut as he broke into a run for the woods.

He knew all the facts and figures, calculated his father's age and weight and diet habits and how quickly the EMT's could have arrived and how skilled the average doctor of this area were. Unless that God his mother so fervently believed in suddenly decided to make an appearance, there was no chance.

Sheldon ran and ran until he thought his lungs would burst and his heart give out just like… he couldn't even think it. Panting heavily, without a clue where he was and not caring, he sank down to a crouch, careful not to let a speck of dirt touch anything besides his shoes. Even in the face of tragedy he could never relinquish the idiosyncrasies he was chained to for life.

He didn't cry. It wasn't fit for a man to show weakness.

He had no friends, his family had no idea what had happened between them, and if they ever found out they would never forgive him. There was no one to turn to but himself.

He was in the exact same position when his Meemaw found him hours later, tasked to give Sheldon the news that he already knew. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his heels as he chanted the same phrase (in threes, as always was the case with him) over and over and over.

"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. _I didn't mean it_."

No matter how many times he said it, though, the one man those words were intended for would never, ever hear them.

_x_

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Sheldon cast a quick glance to Amy as he sat in the passenger seat, taking in the sight before him. "I'm sure. I need to do this on my own."

Yet still he remained where he was, wringing his hands at the mere thought of finally doing the thing he'd been avoiding for twenty-five years.

"Sheldon." He felt a hand cover his, and he smiled softly at the feel of their rings clinking against one another. "You know how you are about closure. You need to do this. You'll be fine, I promise. And even if you're not, I'll be right behind you to help you through it."

He let out a steady breath through his nose and, looking over at his wife, leaned over to give her a quick kiss. "I won't be long."

He unbuckled and stepped from the car, not daring to stop for fear that he won't be able to move forward again. After all, an object in motion tends to stay in motion.

Arriving at his destination, Sheldon could do little more than stare at the simple, polished piece of stone that rested over his father's bones.

**Here lies George Matthew Cooper Sr.**

**1942-1994**

**_In my Father's house are many rooms;_**

**_I am going there to prepare a place for you_**

**_-John 14:2_**

Naturally, the epitaph had been chosen by his mother.

Sheldon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Erm, hi Dad." He felt frankly ridiculous, talking to a rock like he was setting the evolutionary scale back a few millennia, but at the same time oddly comforted. "I'm sorry I haven't seen you before now. I was… afraid."

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked around, praying that no one could see him talking to his father's grave like some sentimental poet or something. "I'm doing well. I'm thirty-nine years old, can you believe it? You probably thought I'd have gotten myself blown up by now." He chuckled quietly to himself, slowly feeling more at ease with doing this. "I work at a big university in California, at the top of my field in the Physics department. No Nobel yet, but I'm getting there. I have friends there, too."

He could just see the look of disbelief on his dad's weathered face, and he snorted. "Yes, you heard right. People who accept and love me as I am. Well most of the time, anyways. And… I have a wife. Her name's Amy, and she's fantastic. You would have loved her. She understands me like no one ever has, supports me, yet is also fearless about calling me out those few times that I'm in the wrong."

Sheldon went quiet for a long moment. "She's kinda like what Mom was for you."

With another deep breath, Sheldon reached for the small piece of paper that'd been burning a hole in his pocket all day. "I got the note you wrote me, right before they wheeled you into the OR."

He paused to once more look down upon the words he would've memorized even without an eidetic memory. _Shelly, the problem has been dealt with. I wish I was half the man you are. I'm sorry._

"That's where you went that day, wasn't it?" Sheldon whispered softly. "You went to break up with her." Desperate to find something else to focus on so he wouldn't start crying, he flipped the paper over. "Never thought I'd receive the most important message of my life on the back of a receipt to Big Boy. I always told you eating those burgers every day for lunch would prove detrimental to your health. I… guess I was right."

Carefully folding the well-aged paper up, Sheldon tucked it back into his pocket. "A part of me will never forgive you, you know, but the rest of me wants to say thank you. And to offer my own apology." He took a step forward to run a hand along the headstone. "I didn't mean it."

As he slowly traced the letters of his father's name, Sheldon allowed his perfect memory to reel through every touching moment, every kind word from the grumpiest old redneck on earth, right up to that night he was rocked to sleep as a baby. "For all your issues and faults, Dad… you were a good father."

"Daddy?"

Sheldon was jerked from his nostalgic reverie and back to the present by the one sound he could without fail pick out across a crowded room: his son calling out to him, short blonde curls swaying in the gentle breeze (where did he even _get _that hair? It was one of the only instances that Sheldon even remotely wished he had pursued something other than physics, in this case, genetics).

"Hey buddy," Sheldon greeted, settling himself on the grass as an invitation for the child to clamber up onto his lap. From his peripheral vision he saw Amy at a respectful distance, watching them both. "You have a good nap?"

The little boy ignored the question, staring into his father's eyes with that knowing gaze that could probably cut through steel, that still left Sheldon in awe even after three years of knowing this tiny miracle of a human being. "Why are you sad, Daddy?"

"I- I'm not sad," he protested even as the child reached up to wipe a single tear clinging to the corner of his eye. "Actually, I'm glad you're here. There's someone I want you to meet."

Facing forward again, Sheldon brushed a hand over his boy's head to direct his attention to the small stone that marked all that was left of the man whom, try as he might've in the past for it to be otherwise, he'd looked up to as only a son for his father could.

"Matthew George Cooper, this is your Pop-Pop."


End file.
